For the Truth, for Revenge

The next morning.

The first rays of sunlight in Soul Society filtered through the window lattice and fell across the floor of the Thirteenth Division Captain's office.

Kurosaki Ichigo groggily opened his eyes, his mind still muddled from his hangover.

He instinctively rolled over, intending to stretch, but his gaze inadvertently swept across the floor beside the bed.

The next second.

It was as though an invisible iron hand had seized his heart. Kurosaki Ichigo's still-sleepy pupils abruptly shrank to pinpoints.

What entered his sight was not the familiar grain of the floor, but two smooth, milk-white legs devoid of all life.

They lay sprawled across the floor in an extremely twisted posture.

The once-flawless pale skin was marred by horrifying patches of blood. Orange hair completely covered the face, making her look like a female ghost who had only recently died.

On the tatami beneath her body, dark-red blood had dried into a large, sickening stain.

"What the hell?!"

A chill shot up from his tailbone to the crown of his head. Kurosaki Ichigo let out an instinctive shriek and sprang from the bed as if electrocuted, scrambling back to the doorway.

His right hand reflexively seized the Zanpakuto at the bedside, the veins on the back of his hand bulging.

No one who woke up to a sight like this would feel anything remotely alluring. They would only feel terror.

Was this a dream? Or some kind of prank?

He panted heavily, staring fixedly at the thing lying on the floor. His heart hammered wildly in his chest like a beating drum.

"Ah??"

When he finally forced himself to calm down and gently used his sheathed Zanpakuto to lift that curtain of orange hair, all strength seemed to drain from his body, leaving his mind completely blank.

That